When the Wind is in the East
by spiritdream
Summary: Sanada's world in puzzle pieces. He dreams of strength and the rush of the wind, of Seiichi's laughter carrying over the net.


**Title:** When the Wind is in the East  
**Pairing:** Sanada/Yukimura (with a dash of Rikkaidai, Sanada!family, Atobe and Tezuka thrown into the mix.)  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** minor character death (not a tennis player and off-screen)  
**Notes:**written for funpotexchange 2012. I took some liberties with Yagyuu's timeline before he joined the team, as well as with Nobuyuki's name. The title is an old nursery rhyme about the prediction of the weather.

_When the wind is in the east, _

_'Tis neither good for man nor beast; _

_When the wind is in the north, _

_The skilful Asher goes not forth; _

_When the wind is in the south, _

_It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth; _

_When the wind is in the west, _

_Then 'tis at the very best._

* * *

When Sanada thinks back on it, his first experience with tennis is forever linked with his first meeting with Yukimura.

His parents are on a business trip and his grandfather is busy training two of his students for a tournament, so his brother has been assigned to be his babysitter for the day.

"So, squirt, how about we go out and have some fun?" his brother asks, kneeling in front of him while holding out his jacket. When Genichirou just looks at him with all the stubborn seriousness of an almost five year old, Nobuyuki sighs.

"Come on. I promise you will like it," he urges, still holding the jacket but knowing better to actually dress him. The last time he tried, Genichirou stomped and scowled and sulked for longer than Nobuyuki anticipated, and made sure he was as difficult as children could be for the rest of the afternoon. For two weeks.

After a few minutes of coaxing and bribing, he finally shows some interest and Nobuyuki's shoulders slump in relief.

The walk to the courts is spent in silence as Genichirou's attention is held by the falling cherry blossoms, a twirl of white and pink dancing in the breeze. The weather is warm and the park they go through is fresh and green, buzzing with the noise of spring.

The club is relatively empty when they get there, and before Genichirou can familiarize himself with his surroundings, a racket is thrust between his fingers and he is told what to do.

After a while the grip feels uncomfortable and the racket heavy. He also doesn't really like yellow. His brother's voice is annoying.

He tells as much and then sits on the bench, on the periphery of the small cluster of children. Genichirou watches them play. They are loud. He is soon bored.

One of the children breaks free from the crowd and trots over to him.

"Hi," he says, smiling shy and warm. His voice comes soft but steady in contrast to Genichirou's slightly awkward greeting.

"Wanna play?" he asks, holding out a yellow ball. Genichirou scowls.

"I don't like yellow."

"Oh." The child looks dejected, obviously taking the rejection badly and before Genichirou's brain catches up with him, he's making amends.

"But we can play." The boy brightens instantly and takes hold of Genichirou's hand, tugging slightly. His touch is casual, easy. Genichirou can't really do anything but follow.

He feels a bit uncomfortable at first because he is not used to interacting with children his age. But the boy – Seiichi, he remembers – seems to enjoy talking for the both of them, and slowly Genichirou relaxes.

After they have successfully defended their fort from the other children, rescued the princess while fighting dragons with rackets-turned-swords, his brother comes over.

"Hey, squirt, time to go."

Genichirou feels disappointment welling up and almost opens his mouth to plead for a little bit more time, but then he swallows, his teeth clinging together as he looks at the ground.

His brother bows to the woman on the side, thanking her for looking after him and apologizes for the inconvenience.

"Really, Sanada-san, it was no bother at all. He's such a good child, so well behaved. I'm glad Seiichi had someone he could play with, they seemed to get along instantly."

"Thank you." His brother bows again before they leave. He glances through the fence and can see Seiichi waving. His right hand itches to do the same.

"Had fun?" his brother asks as they walk home. Genichirou asks to be taken again. Nobuyuki laughs and Genichirou scowls as he feels fingers carding through his hair.

The next time they meet at the club, Seiichi hands him a racket and drags him into a ring of children taking their first tennis lesson. Seiichi watches the coach, his eyes clear and intense with concentration. Genichirou tries to pay attention, but his focus is more on Seiichi.

The first time they play a match with each other, it's not during their lessons and it's not on the orders of the coach. They also do a lot more swinging and running after the ball than actual rallying, and the rules that were drilled into their heads during practice are nothing more than background buzz. He feels like he is king of the world, like he and Seiichi are invincible, like there is nothing else that makes more sense or feels more right in the universe than him and Seiichi on the court with the ball.

Genichirou plays until he collapses and can't get up anymore. Nobuyuki has to carry him and he falls asleep on the way home. He dreams of strength and the rush of the wind, of Seiichi's laughter carrying over the net.

* * *

With kendo, there is neither a first experience nor a definite moment that stands out in his memory. Kendo has always been there.

* * *

The coach says Genichirou has potential, but his eyes glaze over when he is watching Seiichi's natural born talent unfold on the court. He gives Seiichi individual assignments – a little bit of extra task here and there – and tries to stir him toward other, mostly older or adult players. Seiichi is curious at first, but when the extra work results in less and less time spent with Genichirou and their little group, he's frowning more with each passing session. When the coach's vocabulary seems to be missing _no _and resistance is all but futile, he makes his displeasure known.

Genichirou knows that he is good at making adults do what he wants due to all the practice he gets mostly with his older brother and, to a lesser extent, with his father. But watching gentle, sweet, and caring Seiichi throw a tantrum of such epic proportions that sends at least half of the adults into blind panic and makes most of the kids cry, he realizes that he still has much to work on.

* * *

From his parents, he receives a tennis racket for his birthday. The day passes in a blur of excitement and joy. When he slowly trots toward his room, still warm and sleepy from the bath, his mother pries his fingers from the racket and forbids him to take it to bed. Sulking never works on his mother.

He silently vows to take care of the racket the way he has seen his grandfather treat his shinai.

* * *

Seiichi may know how to win his battles, but he's still easily overwhelmed when it comes to wars.

"I don't want to go," he says, subdued and dejected, kicking a tennis ball when it rolls their way. The coach persuaded his parents that another sport facility with better conditions and a focused training program would benefit their child more. They have already brought Seiichi around for a visit. After the regular try-out session, whatever doubts the lead coach had about minimum age requirements became feeble and hazy in memory.

"I don't like the coach. I don't know anyone. I don't like the new place. I don't want to go," Seiichi mumbles, and Genichirou doesn't know how to make him feel better when he also wants Seiichi to stay.

"But you like tennis," he tries, and Seiichi looks up at him, surprised. He blinks, thinking about it a little, then smiles.

"Yes." The admission comes, shy but sure, absolute. Genichirou smiles back.

"So play."

* * *

Next spring he is in elementary school. The other children are still too loud, but this time there is no Seiichi to magically come to his rescue. There is a tennis club, though, and Genichirou asks his parents to sign him up. When he is not in the dojo with his grandfather, he spends all his time on the court or in the school gym.

He wonders if Seiichi is doing the same, imagines how much he must improve, and tries to keep up with the pace.

* * *

His grandfather gives him a baseball cap for his birthday. It's a little bit loose but grandfather says he will grow into it soon.

He wears it to every practice and later on to his every match. When the material is worn thin, his grandfather gives him a new one of the same design – simple and black, the weight on his head as familiar as the men he wears to kendo practice.

* * *

He comes to the realization that babysitting Sasuke when he has learned to crawl can make a challenging training schedule for every available sport that can be played competitively. Nobuyuki laughs and says it's just payback for all the time _he _made his life hell back in the day.

Genichirou dreads the day when Sasuke learns to walk.

The day comes sooner than he has anticipated. Nobuyuki hums about the justice of the universe and the wonders of cosmic karma. Genichirou tries to use the same tricks that have worked for his brother, but Sasuke is neither interested in kendo, nor in tennis. He doesn't even like touching shougi pieces, no matter how elaborate a tale he weaves around the set. The only thing that can hold his attention is the rich, smooth ink on crispy-white paper – though he still likes colorful crayon the best. Genichirou fails to see how all this is related to Sasuke's age.

"Your kid is broken. Take him back and ask for another one."

"How about we keep him and ask for another one?"

"I hope karma bites you in the-"

"Watch your mouth!"

* * *

He should not be surprised to see Seiichi at the U-13 tennis tournament, but meeting him again in the flesh after so many years still takes him off-balance.

He is taller and more subdued than he remembers him to be, but his smile is still the same as his eyes light up in recognition when Genichirou walks towards him.

"I like your hat," he says instead of hello, and it takes Genichirou considerable self-control not to tug on the brim.

"I will play you in the finals," he challenges as Seiichi turns to walk to his match.

"I expect nothing less."

They make it to the finals without a hitch, and the feeling he gets when he takes his stance behind the line is no less exhilarating than he had hoped for.

Then, they play. It's a blur of rallies rushing by and knocking the air from his lungs, sucking him in like a tornado and spitting him out with a head so dizzy and a body so light like a crazily spinning leaf free-falling to the ground.

It's nothing and everything he remembers it to be, something he kept missing but knows that he can't let go now that he has found it again.

The match is long and difficult, though it's obvious that Seiichi – _Yukimura_, his mind whispers because there is nothing left from the sweetly smiling boy who has taken his hand so long ago on the opposite side of the net – has the advantage. His brilliance is almost overwhelming in its intensity, and Sanada can't help but charge toward him with the familiar win or lose, life or death mentality he slips into when he dons his kendo gi.

Yukimura's hand is damp with sweat as he shakes it over the net. They are both out of breath and Sanada's legs feel like jelly. Yukimura's cheeks are flushed and he radiates such satisfaction that Sanada almost basks in it.

He is still high on adrenaline when a boy he has not seen before cuts into the space between them and asks Yukimura for an unofficial match. Sanada is furious at the interruption and decides to take the boy on himself.

He loses both sets spectacularly, and the aftermath leaves him so numb and empty that he can't really concentrate on the match that follows in the wake of his defeat.

He knows the rallies must be amazing because the stranger is better than him and Yukimura is certainly better than him, and when two equals meet on the court, the universe tilts and the sky crashes down.

He's just experienced the same with Yukimura. He loathes that this nameless stranger can just saunter in and take his place like he owns it.

"He's good," Yukimura says as he walks toward the bench, reaching for his towel and sitting down. He radiates heat and smells of excitement. Sanada clenches his teeth on the scream that will make Yukimura focus only on him.

They talk about the missing years between them, about kendo and gardening, classes and friends and favorite foods. Sanada tells Yukimura about the kitten he has found and Yukimura waxes lyrical about his younger sister.

"I'm entering Rikkaidai Fuzoku in April," Yukimura says as they exit the court. The sky is blue and the air is still a bit chilled in remembrance of the passing winter.

"It has a good tennis program." He knows because it's been one of his choices as well.

"The best," Yukimura nods. He doesn't have to ask because the look he gives Sanada may as well be a command.

* * *

The middle school opening ceremony is grand and boring, and everyone is loud – tough after constant exposure to Sasuke, Sanada is getting used to it. He's sitting two seats behind Yukimura in his first class.

* * *

The tennis club is every much as promising as its reputation suggests it to be. The captain explains that there is no exception to wearing the uniform as it promotes unity and helps with identity.

"I forgot, you don't like yellow," Yukimura says as he tries to stifle his amusement, though his eyes give him away.

Sanada sighs. Trust Yukimura to remember. "But we can play."

Yukimura's laughter slides down his back like a caress as they start swinging practice.

* * *

The only other first year beside them that makes it onto the regulars has a terrible haircut and doesn't seem threatening at all. His tennis is rather straightforward, though, and before Sanada can blink Yukimura has already befriended him.

"He's interesting," Yukimura shrugs when Sanada asks about it. "Actually, I think you two have a lot in common."

If Yanagi has Yukimura's approval, Sanada thinks he can't be that bad and tries to make an effort at least for Yukimura's sake.

It turns out that Yanagi is an ace in shougi, appreciates history and has just as much fascination with swords as him. After grandfather and Yukimura, Renji quickly becomes his new favorite person.

They win the regionals and at their next practice Yukimura has his first confrontation with their coach. It's subtle enough to avoid drawing too much attention, but it takes Renji one look at his notes to clue in. He only brings it up after they win nationals that year, though, when Yukimura has finished testing his wings and finally goes on the offensive.

"I take it Seiichi has some issues with authority," Renji starts, offering Sanada one of the cans he got from the nearby vending machine. The liquid is cold and refreshing, with an underlying taste of cherries. Sanada thinks back on Yukimura's excessive rants about his numerous coaches, remembers what started it all.

"Perhaps. But, he just really doesn't like coaches that much," Sanada answers as he puts down the can. His fingers come away wet from condensation.

"Interesting," Renji hums, but their conversation is cut short when Yukimura plops down onto the seat next to Sanada's, snatching the can and taking a sip. He leans into Sanada's side, warm and content, his arm brushing Sanada's elbow.

"I didn't know you liked cherry flavored soft drinks," Yukimura says, tilting his face towards the gentle rays of the sun. Sanada watches as he licks his lips.

* * *

He knows Yukimura has been experimenting with something, but the first time his sight is taken in the middle of their rally he's so disoriented he comes to a halt as the ball effortlessly sails by him.

He hears Yukimura come closer, feels the steady pressure his fingers leave on his arm.

"Sorry, it's still not complete, are you all right? I didn't know it could do that, I mean, I hoped it would do something like that, but I was not sure, sorry for not warning you. Are you all right? Hurt anywhere? Say something, please."

Yukimura's constant stream of words is enough to keep his momentary panic at bay. He can already make out the blurry contours of the world, and soon Yukimura's eyes come into focus. He looks worried, unsure of himself. His hand is warm on Sanada's skin.

"Don't apologize," Sanada grits out and Yukimura blinks. He clears his throat and tries again. "Don't you ever apologize for winning. When you step on the court, it's either victory or defeat. Whoever is not clear on this should never have taken a racket into their hand."

Yukimura looks relieved when he speaks, but Sanada's mind is still too muddy to realize what he's saying. He's on autopilot, still trying to grasp equilibrium with all his focus on Yukimura. "Victory or defeat?"

"Yes, that. Or, in some cases, mutual killing."

"I see," Yukimura murmurs, thinking. Sanada doesn't know if this is good or bad.

* * *

Yukimura's technique is complete and Sanada skips school and practice the following day. His grandfather takes one look at him over breakfast, shakes his head and orders him to change into his gear.

He drills him so hard and so long that at one point Sanada loses consciousness for a few seconds. The experience is not all that different from going blind and deaf and numb on the court.

"Again," his grandfather barks, and Sanada finds the strength to get up.

Renji and Yukimura come by after practice. Renji brings his homework and they listen to Yukimura's plan about the club come next year.

"You will not be captain next year," Renji reminds him gently, but he's taking notes and probably imagining scenarios already.

"Not yet, no. But I will be," Yukimura says, and his voice is flat and hard as steel, unsheathed and glinting dangerously as it slices between the three of them. Goosebumps break all over Sanada's skin.

"The probability of that is 100%," Renji nods, and takes a sip from his tea.

* * *

In their second year, Yukimura makes vice-captain and soon only three of the regulars are third years. The coach tries to interfere, but Yukimura knows his battles and has learned how to siege wars.

He discusses schedules with Renji and line-ups with Sanada, and starts to mold and shape the team with the full support of their ignorant captain. The transition is subtle and beautiful, slowly extending and unfolding for everyone to see, but most people notice only part of the design and forget about the rest in their awe. It's a complete opposite of what Sanada would do.

"You don't like it," Yukimura says once, when they are sitting on the roof during their lunch break. Sanada leans back on his hands, watching the clouds swim lazily in the blue of the sky.

"That's not it," he denies and the truth in the words rings clear between them.

"But you don't approve. You wouldn't do it this way."

"I wouldn't. But that's me, and there is you. You don't need my approval. Yukimura," he starts, then stops and turns his head to catch Yukimura's eyes before he continues, "you play tennis the same way."

Renji looks up from his notes when Yukimura stiffens, his shoulders rigid and eyes unreadable. The sudden tension vibrates between them like a living, breathing entity.

"I see," is all he says, and Sanada realizes with a jolt that he really does not. He believes that Sanada doesn't like playing him, doesn't approve of his methods and style, that he _dislikes _Yukimura to some extent. The notion feels so impossible that it leaves Sanada numb with disbelief.

He tries to arrange a match during practice to show Yukimura the truth, but Yukimura evades him like quicksilver. They stay for one after practice.

Sanada goes all out, his every lob screaming intent and soon he gets lost in the game. Like after every match they play, he feels his insides trembling.

When he looks over the net, he sees Yukimura standing there, shocked but hopeful and also a bit confused.

"Idiot," Sanada murmurs, tugging on the brim of his cap. Hopefully, he gets it.

* * *

Kirihara Akaya bursts into their lives like an overexcited puppy in dire need of discipline.

"We should be gentle," Renji tries, but Sanada glares at the suggestion and Yukimura only smiles.

They crush the first year into the ground, but his little suicide mission is demonstrative enough to get Yukimura's attention. Sanada thinks the kid is either a tactical genius or a complete moron, though his money is on the latter.

Sanada learns that Tezuka Kunimitsu plays for Seishun Gakuen. They lose a singles match in which their captain plays, but win all the others. The loss shouldn't matter but Sanada's fury carries well over onto their next match with Hyotei. His rage is fueled by catching a glimpse of Tezuka on the sidelines and he channels all of his energy towards his unsuspecting opponent. The court resembles to a battleground when they play and it bleeds massacre when the referee calls the last point. He hopes Tezuka has been watching. His opponent certainly had been.

"I would appreciate it if next time you played against _me_," he says, and he looks just as angry as Sanada feels.

"Next time try to impress me," he taunts and turns, stalking back to his team. When he has cooled down and comes back from his run, Niou is already three games into his match. For once Kirihara only lingers on the edge of his vision and has the brains to keep his mouth shut. Yukimura slides up to him and hands him a towel. During the rest of the match he stands close and Sanada lets his presence ground him.

They win nationals again that year. Yukimura makes captain and asks Sanada to be his vice-captain. Their coach is nowhere to be seen.

Sanada should be worried, but the club has been in good hands. Yukimura has been captain in all but name during their second year, Renji has volunteered to look after the club budget and Sanada has assisted them both wherever it was needed. Their teamwork is like a well-oiled, reliable machine.

"We will win nationals in our third year again," Yukimura says and Sanada, along with Renji, agrees.

* * *

He still participates in kendo matches, even though he couldn't join the school team due to the tennis schedule he has. He practices every day with his grandfather. Renji says his tennis has numerous elements integrated from the arts, Yukimura just calls him a grumpy samurai when he frowns too much. Even though he tries to keep the dates of the competitions a secret, somehow they find out and at least one of them is always there.

* * *

In the break before their third year, Niou recruits someone from the golf club and somehow talks Yukimura into arranging a try-out. Yagyuu makes it onto the regulars. When Yukimura's eyes sweep through their group, his excitement is almost palpable and his mood is catching like wildfire.

Then everything turns into a nightmare.

* * *

Even with a recovered Yukimura, they lose nationals. Kirihara makes captain for next year.

"Don't worry kid, you will certainly do better next time than we did this year," Niou soothes with just as much insult as with compliment. Kirihara doesn't even rise to the bait, which is worrisome, but Renji is better at damage control so Sanada leaves it to him.

Dealing after regionals was harder, but Yukimura was only there for the aftermath and Sanada is worried how he handles this. Most people forget that Yukimura is their second youngest and the closest to Kirihara in age.

He is practicing iaido one afternoon when Yukimura seeks him out. His grandfather shows him the way to the dojo. Sanada is in the middle of his kata so he doesn't stop, but can feel Yukimura's presence on the edge of his consciousness before all of his concentration shifts back to the flow of movements and balance.

"I'm sorry," Yukimura sighs at last, when they are both sitting in front of the open doors, watching the garden.

Sanada wants to say it's not his fault as they competed as a team, thus won and lost as a team, but he has a feeling that Yukimura is apologizing for more than their title loss.

"It's either victory or defeat," he says instead, matter of fact, and hears Yukimura smother a snort.

"Or mutual killing."

"Well, yes. That too."

"So I shouldn't ever apologize for losing either?" Yukimura asks quietly. His shoulders are hunched and for the first time since Sanada has known him, he looks completely lost. Sanada wants to hold him close and shied him from failures, wants to erase the past few months spent between white walls and sheets smelling of antiseptics from both of their memories. He wants so many things so much it hurts.

"Before you step on the court, you are aware of all the possible outcomes of the match. You know the risks, yet you take them. All of us know that. Yukimura, you went all out, did you not?"

"Yes," he says, and Sanada nods.

"And you still lost. Which hurts, but it will pass. There is no shame in losing when your opponent is better than you. Learn from it."

"I remember differently. The sudden change in how you see the world is quite astounding." Yukimura's voice is clipped, but Sanada doesn't flinch. He's earned that one.

"I learned," is all he says and silence falls between them until Yukimura's laugh breaks it.

"Sanada, you are awfully blunt. You should work on your comforting skills."

"You knew that, too," Sanada shrugs and they both hear the rest he doesn't say: _but you have come here anyway_.

"True." Yukimura sighs and stands, then wanders into the garden. Sanada's eyes trace the arch of his shoulder and the line of his torso, the bend of his elbow and a flick of a thin wrist. The fingers that gently caress the surface of a leaf.

Before long, Yukimura is walking back and comes to stand in front of him.

"This afternoon, when you were practicing your kata, you looked beautiful," he says, his voice calm and normal like he's talking about the weather.

Sanada is so startled that his reaction is only a choked thank you.

* * *

All of the third year regulars end up at Rikkaidai high school. When Sanada signs up for the tennis club, the animosity he feels can be easily cut with a knife. He squares his shoulders and looks the captain straight in the eyes.

He doesn't know whether it tells more about their skills or the lack of the high schoolers' when the complete middle school team makes regulars.

The animosity lessens but does not completely disappear, even after their win at regionals. Sanada knows it's not just him from the team who regularly checks on Kirihara. They have the advantage of being in a familiar environment while they left Kirihara behind, alone with all the responsibility of a captain and the stigma of a lost nationals.

They play Hyotei in the finals. Sanada has his complete focus on Atobe, and judging from his body language, Atobe appreciates it.

"Good match," Sanada says as they shake hands over the net.

"It was," Atobe says with a wry smile, and Sanada thinks that this should have been their first meeting. If he remembers correctly Tezuka is at a tennis academy somewhere in Germany, out of mind and reach. If he asked, Atobe could most probably provide an up to date schedule of Tezuka's daily activities.

In Sanada's first year of high school, Rikkaidai wins both the middle school and the high school national championship.

* * *

They are out celebrating their victory. The restaurant is packed and Yukimura's left elbow bumps into his on occasion.

"So, next year," Niou brings it up casually when there is a lull in the conversation, and Sanada bites back a groan. He catches Niou's eyes glinting with amusement and he knows the topic is deliberate.

"I'm signing up for the golf club," Yagyuu starts before anyone else, and hearing him speak up first surprises even Niou.

Renji wants to concentrate on his studies and Sanada takes a deep breath before continuing that he intends to join the kendo club. Yukimura doesn't say anything, but all of them have seen the leaflets lying around in the clubhouse, scholarships and training programs from all over the world promising blood and success and a Grand Slam title the very least. Only Renji and he know Yukimura's final choice.

"Three out of seven, great," Niou deadpans, but soon grins so widely that Sanada fears his skin will tear around his mouth. "So, who's telling the brat?"

Biting back the groan this time is futile.

* * *

Sanada expects Kirihara to make a fuss, but his quiet acceptance screams louder than anything Sanada has prepared himself for.

"Ah, they grow up so _fast_," Niou sighs, draping himself all over Kirihara's back while Kirihara stumbles and struggles under the additional weight. _Now _he is screaming.

The scene stays with Sanada for a long time.

* * *

Yukimura's plane leaves at eleven, but only Sanada knows the time because he's probably the only one who respects Yukimura's wish to not be sent off. He texts _have a safe trip _and tries to go on with his life lacking vital parts like Yukimura and tennis.

After sixteen hours Yukimura's text says he has arrived in one piece and Renji asks him out for a friendly match.

"Genichirou, melodrama has never been your forte," Renji says a few weeks later when Sanada, after constant text messages and emails and a few phone calls, as well as more than a few friendly matches (or not-really-friendly when it involves Atobe) comes to the realization that his life will neither lack Yukimura nor tennis probably as long as he lives.

* * *

His grandfather does not pay him more attention now that he has decided to devote himself to kendo. He didn't go easy on him when Sanada had other commitments and expects him to continue with what he has been assigned. Whether Sanada practices more in his free time is not his business. Kendo is an art that takes a lifetime to master.

When Kirihara seeks him out and tentatively asks whether it was due to the pressure of his family, Sanada shakes his head. He knows that grandfather would be just as supportive if he had committed himself to tennis or shougi or modern Japanese literature.

As long as he kept up with his regular exercises.

Or maybe not even that as Nobuyuki is still alive to this day and happily working as a radio host.

* * *

_Florida is hot._

Sanada snorts. Of course it's hot.

_You knew that._

* * *

He participates in team matches just as frequently as in individual ones. Rikkaidai's kendo club is neither as famous nor as good as its tennis one and Sanada needs all the experience and visibility he can get if he wants to go to Senshu University.

* * *

When Sanada comes home the house is empty. He checks his phone but there is no messages or missed calls. His neighbor tells him that he has seen an ambulance not so long ago in front of the house, but Sanada refuses to panic.

He calls his mother and she tells him the name of the hospital. Judging from the tremble in her voice, it's already too late. He goes anyway.

* * *

The funeral is small but a lot of people come to offer their condolences. Extended family and associates, fellow masters and currents students, rivals and friends. Tezuka-san grips his shoulder for a second as he passes by.

His parents ask if he is okay and he says yes. He's won his matches, he's doing well in school. He misses him, but it's not unbearable.

But he can't avoid the family dojo forever. The first time he steps into it after his grandfather's death, he can only stay for five minutes before he has to leave to throw up.

He hasn't even touched any of the equipment left behind.

* * *

Yukimura is waiting for him near the school gates and for a few seconds Sanada thinks he's hallucinating.

"Aren't you in Florida?" Sanada asks, then has the urge to kick himself because it's pretty obvious that Yukimura is not in Florida.

"Nice to see you too."

Sanada sighs. "I'm going to kill Renji."

"And Kirihara, and Niou, and Marui, and Kirihara twice more. Now that I think about it, probably Atobe too. Oh, I almost forgot about Tezuka. The younger."

"Them, too."

When the people actually register, he comes to a halt.

"Wait, Atobe?"

* * *

Yukimura stays for a week and as much as it pains Sanada to admit it, his constant presence helps a lot. It's almost like old times, Renji and Yukimura and him spending all of their free time together.

When Yukimura leaves again, Sanada feels his absence like a constant itch under his skin for days.

* * *

A certain set-up on the shougi board, a specific blend of green tea, a picture of a swimming koi he sees in a gallery still make his breath hitch, though the ache has dulled over time.

Kendo is still only kendo, though; and for that Sanada is eternally grateful. His grandfather would have a fit if he quit because of some silly thing like grief.

* * *

He graduates and starts at Senshu University. He chooses Humanities and intends to major in Japanese literature and history. The kendo club is best in the region and nationally ranked – Sanada knows he is good, but there is always room for improvement.

Yukimura wins some tournaments – most of them are minor ones, but it's enough to start a buzz on the pro-circuit.

* * *

He still meets up regularly with Renji and Kirihara is a constant annoyance in his life.

Occasionally, he plays a few sets with Atobe. Sanada thinks he was the only one not surprised when Atobe decided to attend Keio University instead of going pro. Personally, Sanada thinks that Atobe enjoys playing in the cut-throat environment of business deals just as much as he enjoys dissecting his opponents to pieces on the court. The dissecting just appeals to him a bit more if it's done in fine clothes and is executed in an environment of luxury. Plus, his sizable ego would purr in absolute contentment if he could call the shots from above as the ultimate game maker – and soon enough a subsidiary of the Atobe Corporation that mostly deals with sponsorships and event organizations offers a contract to world-ranked tennis player Tezuka Kunimitsu that he can't refuse.

"Your fixation is quite cute," he says when they change courts.

"You are one to talk," Atobe shots back immediately and Sanada knows he's not referring to his childhood obsession with Tezuka.

* * *

Sanada finally makes the team when Yukimura's name enters the ranking list. They still talk every other day and exchange e-mails daily.

* * *

He's just finished teaching one of his classes when Yukimura literally falls through his door. He's swaying on his feet so badly that Sanada takes his bag without questions and leads him to the guest room. He falls asleep almost immediately after his head hits the pillow. When Sanada checks him for injuries but comes up with nothing, he concludes it's most probably just exhaustion. He debates calling Yukimura's manager or his coach, but decides against it – if Yukimura doesn't want to be found, it won't be Sanada who gives up his location.

Yukimura sleeps for twelve hours until Sanada wakes him up and makes him eat. Then he goes back to sleep for a few more.

* * *

Yukimura doesn't want to talk about tennis, which is a little baffling, considering. Sanada quickly goes through everything he knows, but to his knowledge Yukimura is not injured and it's only been three weeks since he took the world by storm with advancing to the US Open quarterfinals while being practically some unknown low-seeded wannabe from the East. He should be attending charity matches or undergoing some intense training or attending parties and charming sponsors far away from Sanada.

Instead, he pesters Sanada about his studies, wants to see his campus, and talks about the art galleries he's visited last week in New York.

"Does either your coach or your manager know you are here?" Sanada asks over dinner. Yukimura shrugs.

"Probably."

"… I see. Your parents?"

"I've already visited them."

"Good."

Yukimura beams over his rice. "There is a bonsai exhibition I've wanted to check out. Want to come?"

* * *

"Play a match with me," Yukimura asks one early morning after Sanada is done with his routine. It's the first thing that's related to tennis that has left his lips since he's been here.

"Our levels are very different. You will be disappointed," he tries to evade.

"Please," Yukimura asks again. Sanada has never been able to say no to him. He takes Yukimura to the university courts.

The difference in their level is glaringly obvious, but the feeling he gets is still just as all consuming as he remembers it to be. It's not tennis he missed like a limb but playing Yukimura, all the dizziness and breathlessness, the faint trembling and the bone-deep ache in his muscles. When he is only focusing on Yukimura and Yukimura's eyes only see him in exchange.

Everything he feels is always there, it just intensifies tenfold when they play tennis. To him, it's always been incredibly obvious. He had even tried to convey it once, after their little misunderstanding on the rooftop, but Yukimura didn't get the full meaning behind his intent.

When Sanada misses the last point, he does nothing but breathe for a while.

"I have classes," he says, and his voice comes out like it's being dragged over sandpaper.

He feels Yukimura's eyes boring into his back as he walks away.

* * *

Iaido requires exceptional concentration. It's the only thing that never fails to soothe his inner turmoil and clear his mind.

When he finishes his kata, the dojo is empty sans Yukimura who is leaning on the doorframe, watching him.

They both know what's coming – Sanada has been anticipating it the moment he picked up the racket this morning. He knew the possible outcomes, after all.

"Genichirou," Yukimura starts as he comes closer, but after hearing Sanada's sigh he stops.

"I don't think we should have this conversation."

Yukimura nods. "Probably. But we are going to have it anyway."

Sanada's shoulders slump in resignation. Yukimura's standing before him, so close that Sanada can feel his body heat. He also smells faintly of cherries. It's probably the shampoo he's been using since they've started at Rikkai.

"Just now, when you were practicing your kata, you looked beautiful," Yukimura says and the words fall into open space, filling and stretching the edges to the brim. Sanada's whole world suddenly clicks into place.

"Thank you." His whisper glides over Yukimura's lips.

- end -


End file.
